What We Don't Know
by vnsjvhgs
Summary: Finally accepted in society, Adrian and Rose think they're living their ideal life. Only, they hadn't seemed to factor in one minor problem . . . Their troublemaking seventeen year old son. A/R.
1. Chapter 1

"Mom!" The boy said, his voice low and raspy, "What the hell!"

Rose felt the skin on her face heat up as she locked eyes with the raven haired girl draped awkwardly over her teenage son. It wasn't the first time she'd caught him in bed with a girl - he tended to take after his father in _that _front - but that didn't make it any less embarrassing for her, or Uriah, or whatever unlucky girl he'd seduced that night/day. And although she'd seen it all before, she still hadn't learned to knock.

"Mom," Uriah repeated, tugging the navy flannel sheet up to cover the exposed skin of his chest, "leave!"

No respect, Rose thought bitterly. She had loaned him her body for nine months - the same body she was _still _trying to get back, and he thought he could boss her around and tell her to leave? She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the seventeen year old boy.

"And to think I wanted the luxury of spending time with my adolescent son during Christmas . . . " Rose grumbled to herself, shooting Uriah one last scolding look that told him they'd be talking later, before turning back toward the door.

"Turn off the lights on your way out, would you?" Uriah muttered, rather rudely. Rose paused by the doorway, trying to reign in the urge to turn around and yank her son out of bed by his sticky-outy ears. After a second or two, she rolled her eyes and marched out the door, slamming it loudly behind her.

Uriah's rebellion was just a phase, Rose told herself, nothing he wouldn't grow out of in time. But if he didn't start behaving before Christmas day, she'd need to remind him how to act, if it meant lecturing him or beating the rudeness out of him.

Rose let out a snort as she padded down the hallway. Her son towered over her at 6 ft. 4, and knew all her maneuvers when it came to fighting. After all, she'd taught him since the day he'd learned to walk. So it was ludicrous to think that _she'd_ be able to beat _him_. She'd just have to settle for a the lecture then. Or, Rose thought when her husband came into view, she could set Adrian on Uriah, and let Adrian threaten their son into behaving.

That could work.

Her husband stood where she'd left him in the living room, among the many boxes of tree decorations. A large smirk spread across his face as he took in her appearance, and it was then that she sobered from her thoughts and realized her cheeks were still seven shades pinker than her skin tone. The image of the girl straddling her son flashed in her mind, and Rose shuddered delicately.

She _had _to learn to knock.

"Walk in on him again?" Adrian guessed, gesturing to her red face with a nod of his head.

Rose nodded and dropped her head into her hands. "Yes," she groaned.

"Like father, like son," Adrian said, and Rose detected a hint of pride in his voice. She chose to ignore it and started toward the boxes instead. Rose plucked a glittery golden star from a box in front of her and frowned.

"Looks like Uriah's finally outgrown Christmas tree decorating."

Her husband raised a busy brow, that infuriatingly sexy smirk of his plastered on his face.

"Is that so?"

"Mhmm," Rose hummed, "I think the girl in his room pretty much confirms that he'd rather have sex than decorate the tree this year." She sighed and looked at the box of decorations wistfully. "He's growing up fast."

"You say that every year," Adrian teased.

But it was true. It felt like Uriah had only been a baby yesterday. And Rose hated the academy because of it. It had stolen her son away, and had watched him learn and grow while she sat around waiting for him to log onto Skype or answer his cell phone . . . Things he didn't do much.

"He's my baby," Rose murmured, stroking her stomach affectionately, as if she'd suddenly find herself back in 2008, three months into her pregnancy with Uriah.

Sure, her pregnancy with him had been hell - the backaches, the exhaustion, the food restrictions and the vomiting, dear God, the vomiting, - but she felt like she could protect him as long as he was inside her. And now he was out in the big wide world, learning to fight Strigoi by day and partying by night, and of course, training to be king somewhere in between. How was she meant to keep him safe when there were so many threats, such as drugs and alcohol and the living dead surrounding him?

Rose felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist, effectively bringing her back to reality.

"I know," Adrian said, pulling her back against his chest. Rose felt a surge of love toward her husband as she stood in his arms. He was so comforting and perfect, and most importantly, he'd given her a son. Something that she'd never thought could happen. In her eyes, there was no man more valuable to her. Other than Uriah, but Rose wasn't quite ready to call him a man yet.

"He's my mini Adrian," Rose whispered.

"That he is."

* * *

"You might want to watch out for your mother," Adrian said as Uriah sauntered into the room. "She's feeling sentimental again. The baby photos may make an appearance later."

Uriah groaned and tugged on the refrigerator door, his eyes roaming over the shelves for something to snack on. He'd inherited his mother's appetite, but along with that, her inability to cook.

"Want to make me a toastie?" Uriah asked. "Cheese or something?"

"If you go help your mom finish decorating the Christmas tree, I'll make you two," his father bargained.

Uriah nodded, sealing the deal, and started off down the hall. Since he'd returned from the academy a few days earlier, he'd barely been around. Most days, he was out causing trouble with Craig, his nineteen year old human neighbour, and most nights he was out at bars in town, armed with a fake ID and a killer smirk he'd learned from his father. During the rare times he _was _at home, he was locked up in his room with a pretty girl, doing things that he didn't want his mother to know about, let alone see.

Yeah, Uriah felt the slightest bit guilty for abandoning his parents, but really, he was too busy to be humouring them. He was right in the middle of making his own routines and rules, and finding his own pace and place in the world. He didn't really want his mother and father breathing down his neck as he did.

He rolled his shoulders and then turned into the living room. His mother was standing by the fireplace, hanging a red glass ball ball on a lower branch of the tree. Before saying anything, Uriah took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of pine needles and firewood and cookie candles. The room smelt like Christmas, and reminded him of the seventeen Christmases he'd spent sprawled out on the hardwood floor, eating chocolate oranges and playing with his new race cars. As far as he was concerned, no one did Christmas as good as his family.

"Hey, mom," Uriah said, closing the door behind him to keep the heat of the fireplace in. "Dad said you needed help decorating?"

"I don't need help," she replied, "but that doesn't mean I don't want any."

Uriah pushed his hands in his pockets and looked around the room. There was still a lot of decorating to do. Firstly, the wreath above the fireplace needed twinkly lights and a few red ribbons and gold ball balls. The garland on top of the mantel had been completely decorated, but the glittery pomegranates and candy canes were still missing from it. And the Christmas stockings hadn't been hung!

Then, there was the rest of the room. The Christmas floral arrangements and candles had yet to be set out on the various surfaces around the room, and his grandfather's old record player needed to be brought down, along with the tacky old Christmas records. Yes, there was still a lot of decorating to do.

Uriah and his parents were nothing if not thorough when it came to decorating. Under his mother's orders, they never failed to transform the living room into a new magical world that looked as if it were right out of a storybook. The house always fascinated and delighted friends and family when they visited for Christmas lunch, so much so that in the last four years, Lissa, Christian and Isadora had spent Christmas mornings at the Ivashkovs, opening presents and eating chocolates right alongside Uriah.

"Why don't you start on the mantel," Rose said with a smile.

"Yeah, I was just thinking of doing that. What box are the pomegranates in?"

"I think," his mother scanned the room, her hands on her hips, "they're in that one."

She pointed to a box on the far side of the room, with a little red square drawn on the side. Uriah made his way over to it, carefully stepping over boxless ball balls and beads and ribbons, and then pulled it open.

He'd found three of the pomegranates when Rose spoke.

"You need to put a sock on your door," she said quietly.

Uriah raised an eyebrow and looked back at her.

"What?"

"When you're with a girl in your room," his mother explained, "put a sock on your door. That way I'll know not to barge in."

Suddenly, Uriah was three different shades of red. He was about to agree with the sock method when his mother spoke again.

"I know you're going to want to . . . Do things, with girls," she murmured, "it's normal. You want to push the boundaries and experience new things, I understand. But I need to know you're using condoms because trust me, I was a teen mom, and it-"

Dear God, no.

"Mom," Uriah said, "I know about all this. The academy is big on promoting safe sex, so don't worry, I've had this talk before. I'm . . . Safe."

Rose nodded.

"You know, herpes is-"

"Please, stop talking!" Uriah shouted, clasping his hands over his ears like a petulant child.

"Alright, whatever," his mother murmured as she turned back to the tree, another ball ball in hand.

They worked in and awkward silence for the next hour, and slowly, Uriah's face started to turn back to its normal shade. He'd never expected to get a sex talk from his mother, but he guessed that after she'd walked in on him, she'd only thought it was appropriate.

He placed the last candy cane on the mantel, and then rubbed his palms against his thighs and sighed.

"Uh, this was . . . nice, but I think I'm going to go see what Craig's doing now," he said, his voice breaking through the tension in the air.

"Sure. Don't be home too late," his mother replied. "Do you want me to save you dinner?"

"Yeah," he murmured, and then he left the room.

* * *

Adrian peppered kisses along her collarbone, stopping once he'd reached her shoulder to bury his face in her hair. He inhaled, breathing in the scent of her coconut shampoo, and ran a finger along the curve of her waist.

"Adrian," she murmured against his lips as he pressed his body tightly against hers.

Unfortunately, Adrian's cell phone suddenly screamed to life on the bedside table, and a groan of frustration burst from his lips. He reached over to grab the phone, keeping his body balanced on top of Rose's, and muttered a curse word before answering.

"Ivashkov," he barked down the phone.

"Dad," Uriah said, and before Adrian could answer and ask him why the hell he wasn't calling from his own phone, or why his voice sounded funny, his son continued.

"Don't say anything to mom, _please_, but I'm in a bit of trouble and I need you to come and get me."

With a sigh, Adrian rolled off of a confused Rose, and the bed, and walked into the adjoining bathroom, shutting the door gently behind him.

"What kind of trouble?" he asked.

"Jail cell kind of trouble," his son replied. "Craig got pretty wasted and started a fight with this bulky guy. He got pretty messed up, and then I got involved, and then the cops showed up and the bulky guy had a concussion and _I _got in shit because I'd been drinking underage-"

"You got arrested," Adrian stated.

There was a tiny knock on the door, and then a small voice.

"Adrian," Rose said, "what's going on? Who's on the phone?"

"I'll be out in a second, babe," he called before turning his attention back to his phone conversation.

"Arrested," Adrian stated again, only quieter this time, aware of prying ears on the other side of the door.

"Yeah. So I need you to pick me up from the police station. _Please _don't tell mom," Uriah begged.

Adrian dragged his hand down the side of his face and shook his head. It was his son, and he was in trouble, and he had to go pick him up, no matter how much of an idiot he was.

"Fine," he said with a sigh. "I'll be there in twenty minutes. But if your mother starts accusing me of having an affair, you're owning up."


	2. Chapter 2

_Wow, thanks for the alerts and the three reviews! I wasn't expecting any reviews. You readers are the best. _

_I really like you guys. _

_I thought I should let you know that this fic is a _lot _about Uriah. There's always going to be Adrian/Rose scenes though, because I love them too much to completely eliminate them from the story. But yeah, it's mainly Uriah. There'll be love triangles and broken hearts and all that stuff that makes stories lovely. _

_And because of that, maybe you could leave a review and tell me what you think about Uriah. Like him? Don't like him? Want him to find a girlfriend, a job, a pet? Another friend?_

_I'd really really love it if you did. _

_(:_

* * *

The drive back to the Ivashkov residence was longer than Uriah would have liked. So long, in fact, that the playlist on the iPod connected to the car had played through twice before they'd even crossed the halfway point. Uriah didn't know why they'd been in the car for a little over an hour, considering the fact that it had only taken his father fifteen minutes to drive to the police station, but he suspected that Adrian had taken a different route -a longer route- so his torturous silence could stretch on for as long as possible before they returned home to the oblivious mother and wife they knew would be awaiting them.

"I'm not going to ban you from anything," Adrian said suddenly, "but you're not allowed to talk to Craig anymore."

Uriah raised an eyebrow at his father.

"I'm not allowed to talk to Craig anymore," he repeated with a smirk.

Adrian shook his head.

"No. You need to be focusing on your upcoming trials, not getting arrested for assault and underage drinking."

Uriah shrugged and sighed.

"'fraid I can't do that, old man. Craig makes this boring town tolerable."

It was true, Craig and his stoned antics made Chris Rock look bad. Some days Uriah would find his friend sitting by his bedroom window, completely blazed and rambling on about a load of philosophical crap. Other days he'd find him sprawled out in his front yard, unconscious, with a drawn on moustache and 'loser' written on his head. But most days Uriah would find him at the lodge, chatting up pretty tourists that were a few years older than him and out of his league. The pickup lines that flew out of his mouth were by far the most entertaining thing to listen to.

But one of the best things about hanging out with Craig was that the pretty tourist girls tended to pay Uriah a lot of attention. Craig was a normal, simple human. Uriah was a dhampir, and he'd inherited his parent's good genes. Dark brown hair and emerald green eyes, he wasn't too bad to look at. His golden skin was unblemished, and though his chest wasn't as big as the Hulk's, he liked to think that it was Captain America size. Plus, Uriah was badass.

"Get a job," his father suggested. "If you spend your time working, I'll double whatever you make-"

"Yeah, because jobs are the easiest thing to come by fifteen days before Christmas," Uriah said with a snort.

"You could be one of Santa's elves. I think they're hiring at the mall."

"I'd suffocate myself with a pair of your dirty boxers before I'd even consider spending a whole day around children," Uriah muttered.

"Well you need to find something, Ry, because Craig isn't an option now."

"If you say so, pops," Uriah said. He wasn't at all fazed. Adrian himself had been an alcoholic and pack-a-day smoker when he was Craig's age, so he couldn't say much. And Uriah had never really played by the rules anyway. His father had to know that he wasn't going to start now.

* * *

"Don't," Rose murmured and she squirmed out of his arms. "Don't try to spoon me. I don't want to spoon."

Adrian rolled his eyes.

"Fine," he said with a sigh. "We won't spoon."

Most nights, his wife was fine to sleep with. But then there were the nights that she'd toss and turn, and push him away only to cuddle back up to him seven seconds later. And it wasn't just a simple case of comfortableness. She'd press herself right up against him or lie directly on top of him, or she'd take up three quarters of the bed and leave him teetering on the edge of the mattress. She'd take all the blankets or tangle herself in the sheets, then she'd freak out about it and thrash about until she'd freed herself.

Adrian had been lenient during her pregnancy with Uriah, letting her do as she pleased even if it meant sacrificing his comfort. He'd told himself back then that he'd only give her full rein of the bed until she'd had the baby. But then Uriah's first few months had left her exhausted, completely dead on her feet. Adrian had wanted to do everything he could to help her out, so he'd let her keep control of the bed. And then suddenly Uriah was sleeping in their bed too, because his crib hadn't been satisfying enough, and like his mother, he'd taken up as much space as he could on the mattress. So Adrian, for his son's comfort, gladly gave up his own, _again_. Then Uriah was starting at the academy and Rose was missing their son terribly, and Adrian didn't want to add any more stress into her life, so he'd let her hog the bed yet again.

And he'd never, ever complained about it.

"Is Uriah alright?" Rose asked after a few minutes of silence.

Arian rolled on to his side and yawned.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because you said he'd gotten into trouble before you rushed out to go and get him," Rose said.

He'd told her after he'd gotten off the phone that Uriah had called, and had said he was at a party and needed a ride home. Rose had bought the lie and crawled back into bed. She was asleep again by the time Adrian had dressed and left the house.

"He wasn't in trouble. He just needed a lift home. He's fine, he's probably raiding the fridge as we speak."

"Did you remind him that I left him dinner-"

"I'm sure he'll sniff it out, Rose. He has your . . . persistence when it comes to food," Adrian said with a smirk.

"Okay," Rose murmured.

"Is there anything else you want to worry about before we pass out? Because it's already three a.m."

"I'm just making sure my son is fine," Rose mumbled. "If it bothers you so much, then get another wife."

Adrian chuckled and snaked his arm back around Rose's waist, holding her securely against him.

"Just one more thing," Rose whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Liss and I are going Christmas shopping in the morning. So tomorrow, Mr Ivashkov, you're on Isadora duty."

* * *

For the first time since he'd hit puberty, Uriah was up and out of bed before his mother and father. He wanted to escape the house before his father could rope him into babysitting Isadora, because Uriah had better things to do than watching pony cartoons with the babbling five year old girl. Really, he loved the kid, but that didn't mean he liked spending time with her. Especially not after the last time, when she'd left imprints of her teeth all down his arm because he refused to let her play with his hair.

He shoved a plaid shirt over his head and then tugged on a pair of jeans, and shoved his iPhone in his back pocket. He stopped by the living room on his way out of the house, and swiped his Father's keys off of the table and his coat off of the sofa. He waited until he was outside to pull on his snow boots, and then he stomped through the snow to Adrian's Mustang and unlocked the doors.

Uriah found Craig at the lodge. The twenty-one year old sat back in an armchair, a bowl of wedges resting on his thighs as he talked to a long-nosed blonde sitting opposite him. Uriah ordered a hot chocolate and then walked over to the pair, dropping down in the seat beside his friend. For half an hour (the time it took Uriah to drink two hot chocolates and order a third) Craig completely ignored his presence, too absorbed in his conversation with the mildly pretty girl across from him. The two seemed to burn through topics, and not once was Uriah able to get a word in. Not that he had much to say, of course. He'd always been a man of little words. Or boy of little words. Whatever.

But after a little while, Uriah started to get bored. His friend's conversation about bears wasn't exactly the most interesting thing to listen to, and plus, he felt like he was third wheeling on Craig's kind-of date. The situation was all kinds of awkward.

So, after he'd finished his third hot chocolate he left the lodge without a word, drove down the road and collected his snow gear from the boot of the car. He dressed quickly and then pulled on his snowboarding boots, and started toward the chair lifts. He was suddenly grateful for the expensive winter pass his mother insisted on getting him each year, because although he didn't go snowboarding much anymore, it was useful when he was bored.

"Are you a single?" Someone asked in the queue behind him.

Uriah turned around and came face to face with a girl that looked devastatingly familiar. She was in her late teens, like Uriah himself, and had hair the colour of a raven's feathers, a stark contrast to her ivory skin. Her lips were curved up into a teasing smirk, and Uriah stared at her for a full two minutes before the disbelief subsided and recognition dawned.

"Laurie!" He exclaimed then, a smirk of his own plastered on his face. "What the hell! What are you doing here?"

The girl rolled her eyes and held up her seasonal pass card.

"I'm here to ski, obviously!"

"I know, but . . . why are you _here_, in Jackson?" He asked, although he had a feeling he already knew the answer. Earlier that year, two months before Laurie had graduated from the academy, she'd come to Uriah with the news that her parents were getting a divorce. Apparently, Laurie's mother had told her that she was no longer in love with her husband, and although he'd always have a place in her heart, she couldn't pretend to feel something she didn't. Laurie had been devastated, and had stayed cuddled up to Uriah for hours, bawling into his favourite shirt and moaning about having two different houses to live in, two different sets of rules to abide and two different celebrations for birthdays and holidays.

Ironically, the reason for her parent's divorce was the same reason for Uriah breaking things off with Laurie four months later. They hadn't really spoken since.

"After my parent's divorce, my mom moved here. I spend half the year with her, and the other half with my dad."

Uriah didn't miss the shudder that came with the word 'divorce'.

"You should have told me you lived here," he said, and then instantly regretted the words. He'd broken her heart only months earlier, why would she want anything to do with him?

Laurie half grimaced, half smiled.

"We didn't exactly leave things on the best of terms," she said. "I was scared that you wouldn't answer my calls or emails."

And then Uriah remembered her not-so-pleasant reaction to the breakup . . .

"So, um, are you a single?" Laurie asked again.

"Yeah. Yup, I'm a single," Uriah said.

Well, this was going to be an awkward chairlift ride.

* * *

_Thank you for reading (:_


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